Looking back, I wonder if my life would have been different if I would have stopped to think, “What Would Judge Judy Do?”

From May 1998 to June 2001 I worked on staff at The Judge Judy Show, first as a receptionist, and later as a production administrator. At the time I was generally sauced and artfully channeling Dorothy Parker, calling everyone a shit, and demanding attention at every turn. It was by far the most debauched time of my life (which is saying quite a bit). During my tenure, I learned how to lose weight quickly, how to lie with a southern accent, how to manipulate the destitute, and how to beg for money. Sadly, none of these lessons came from Judge Judy. Had I been paying attention to Her Honor at the time, I could have learned how to: be accountable for my own actions (instead of blaming others for my chaos), build my self-esteem (instead of my credit card debt), be the hero of my own story (instead of the victim), base my self-worth on my deeds (instead of on the circumference of my waist), and be responsible for my own happiness (instead of pressuring my hair stylist).

But, I was an emotionally stunted 26-year-old who had wallowed through years of self-loathing, gallons of gimlets, and buckets of Xanax, too long to realize that every lesson I needed to learn was being delivered to me daily by a sagacious judge with an incisive wit. Judge Judy works her ass off, has her act together, knows who she is, refuses to take crap from anyone, and speaks her mind. She is a moral touchstone in an otherwise deeply disturbed world. Simply put, she is the bubbe, the Jewish grandmother the world desperately craves, as she makes sense out of nonsense and demands accountability. Looking back, I wonder if my life would have been different if I’d listened, and stopped to think, “What Would Judge Judy Do?”

Now 36, like too many women my age, I've recently begun seriously ruminating on my early, frivolous and misguided adulthood, trying to piece together What Went Wrong. I have a master’s degree from UCLA, I’ve published a critically acclaimed novel, and I should be living among the literati, smoking Gauloises and summering in the Hamptons. Instead, I worked at Barnes & Noble in Portland, Oregon for 1 year where I manned a cash register and stewed nightly from behind stacks of Twilight. People were more likely to ask me, “Hey dumbass, where's the toilet?” than, “Literary Goddess, may I have your autograph?”

After hours of hard work at the bookstore selling Hannah Montana journals and Thomas the Train paraphernalia, I tried to unwind in the safe confines of my own home. I plopped down on the couch, turned on the TV, and attempted to escape into mindless entertainment. There was Judge Judy, preaching to the schmucks in her courtroom, and her 10 million viewers – and me, her former receptionist, about making good decisions. When I turned the channel, she was on The View. Another click, there she was grinning with Ellen DeGeneres. Another, and, oh for Christ’s sake, Larry King, too! I switched off of the TV to escape online, check out my favorites websites, there she was on Jezebel. Again.

I quit the bookstore and went back into advertising. The pay is better and no one reads.

This is my life. Judge Judy haunts me.

Since I cannot escape this woman, it occurs to me that maybe I shouldn’t try. Maybe, instead, I should do my time, pay my karmic fine and attempt to expunge my record as a fuck-up. First step in moving forward: looking back. In this blog I’ll revisit my darkest (and hilariously tragic) times in Hollywood and relay what I actually learned from Judge Judy. The answer: Everything.